


The Solace of Touch

by thewolvesrunwild



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Relationship, Self-Worth Issues, origin of the Sleeping Position
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolvesrunwild/pseuds/thewolvesrunwild
Summary: Yusuf wakes Nicolò up from a nightmare with less than ideal results.But even if Nicolò could explain their traveling situation as beneficial to Yusuf, it baffled him every time the other man placed his bedroll beside him. Surely not even destiny would compel a man as kind-hearted as Yusuf to stray any closer to a monster like him than strictly necessary.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 17
Kudos: 403





	The Solace of Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wanderingscholarlad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingscholarlad/gifts).



> So Poppy brought up touch-starved Nicolò in the tog discord and while she is our wonderful domesticity dealer and stayed soft, I was given the go ahead to angst.

Even overlooking the obvious, Nicolò and Yusuf were two very different people. A major difference between them was that Yusuf had no problem being tactile with others. He'd clap traders on the back and laugh and joke with them while bartering for supplies. He'd accept gentle prodding from the merchants selling food and insisting that their wares would fill out his cheeks. He always had a fond hair ruffle or piggyback ride for any children that came up to ask for stories from the new travelers.

He even touched Nicolò.

A hand to his back in a crowded market to steer him. A hand on his arm to get him to look at something interesting. A brush of their shoulders as they sat around their fire at night.

Nicolò tried desperately not to flinch from every small bit of contact. He knew it was who Yusuf was, but he couldn't shake the fact that he was unworthy of such base kindness. Not after what he had been a part of. He was grateful that Yusuf allowed them to travel together in the first place, but still couldn't quite understand why. Surely it wasn’t just because he was good at noticing bandits in the night.

It was as annoying as it was impressive that Yusuf managed to sleep through bandits sneaking up on them. Nicolò may not have always had a hairpin trigger, but he was always a light sleeper. Even with the tentative peace with Yusuf, he still jerked awake in the night with a knife in his hand if there was too much noise from the bedroll on the other side of the fire. His readiness at least came in handy and saved them from more than a few ambushes that would have robbed them of their much needed supplies.

Eventually in their travels, it got to the point where they set out their bedrolls beside each other. But even if Nicolò could explain their traveling situation as beneficial to Yusuf, it baffled him every time the other man placed his bedroll beside him. Surely not even  _ destiny  _ would compel a man as kind-hearted as Yusuf to stray any closer to a monster like him than strictly necessary.

Nicolò was never more sure of this than when he was asleep and trapped within the hells of his own mind. When his dreams weren't of the two women who seemed to be like him and Yusuf, they were nightmares of his greatest faults. He would arrive too late to save someone, his legs slow and heavy no matter how fast he tried to run. He saw the atrocities at Jerusalem, and could only watch motionless as they were carried out. Some nights he even relived one of his many confrontations with Yusuf. He was never able to meet his companion's eye the morning after those.

But that night was the worst of them.

He was back on the battlefield with Yusuf, but this time, instead of fighting back, Yusuf begged him to stop. But Nicolò had no control and could only continue his path of destruction. Nicolò felt like he was screaming inside himself, begging for just a moment of peace. He wanted to listen to Yusuf's words, wanted to lay down his sword, but he only continued to bury it in the bodies around him. It came to a head when suddenly it wasn't a faceless soldier in front of him, but Yusuf himself.

_ "Nicolò stop this! Please!" Yusuf begged, tears in his eyes. _

_ "I can't!" Nicolò wanted to cry out. But in the dream he only raised his sword. _

_ "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." The thoughts repeated endlessly but no sound came out as he brought the blade down. _

There was a hand on his back and Nicolò reacted instantly, pulling his knife and slashing the intruder across the throat. Blood splashed onto his face, the smell just like in the dream.

But everything else was different. He was sitting up on his bedroll, not standing in a battlefield. The night air was cool on his skin unlike the unrelenting heat of the sun. The only light was the stars and the glowing embers of the fire, not the shine of armor.

But it had to still be a dream, because Yusuf lay in front of him, dying. Yusuf lay in front of him, dying  _ by Nicolò’s own hand _ .

"No, no, no, no, no."

Nicolò rushed to get a good look at Yusuf's face, his hands hovered over his cheeks but he quickly pushed past his hesitation and brought his head to rest in his lap.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he rocked back and forth over Yusuf, his words from the dream now flowing past his lips.

He didn't want this, he had never wanted to hurt Yusuf again. And now he had.

Yusuf had stopped breathing, whether he died of the blood filling his lungs or simply because too much if it left his body, Nicolò did not know. It hardly mattered. Yusuf was once again dead because of him. Because of his failings. Because he wasn't good enough or strong enough. Because he simply wasn't enough.

Yusuf would really be kicking himself for this blunder for a while. He had only meant to offer comfort, but he should have realized how ill-advised it was to touch his traveling companion who slept with a knife in his hand. Especially when he seemed to tense every time Yusuf touched him while awake. He never moved away from the touch, never complained about it, so Yusuf took that as a sign that it wasn't entirely unwelcome. But he would have to be more careful should something like this happen in the future.

Yusuf hadn't been sure what had woken him up at first. When they had been attacked in the night before, he was either woken by Nicolò's shout, or a hand to his shoulder and two fingers to his lips to request his silence.

Yusuf had awoken to neither of those things.

It took him a moment to catch his bearings and realize that he had in fact been woken by Nicolò, just not in the usual way. The other man had curled in on himself and was shaking and muttering under his breath. He recognized the signs of a nightmare and went to help in the way his mother would calm him and his sister.

His hand to Nicolò's back was all it took to wake the other man, and it was in that moment Yusuf realized his mistake.

Nicolò lashed out at him with his blade, cutting him deeply across the throat. Yusuf couldn't even cry out as he fell backwards. Distantly, he thought he felt hands on his cheeks, but all too quickly he was gone.

Yusuf awoke with a sharp inhale. His head was slightly raised and he saw the shape of a head above him. He could hear Nicolò's voice speaking Latin, but it was too fast and slurred for him to parse the meaning. His eyes were closed and after Yusuf's own eyes adjusted to the light, he could see tear tracks on the other man's face. Some of them were stained red with Yusuf's own blood.

Yusuf couldn't stop himself. He reached up and touched Nicolò's face gently with his hand, wiping the tears and blood away from his cheek with his thumb.

Nicolò stilled, eyes opening wide. It was as though he hadn't noticed that Yusuf was back with him until that moment.

"I'm sorry, Yusuf. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry." Fresh tears poured from his eyes as quickly as the words from his mouth.

"It's alright," Yusuf said softly, brushing the new tears away as well. "I should apologize for startling you."

Nicolò's face somehow seemed to grow even more anguished, as if the events that just took place could be of no one's doing but his own.

"I forgot that it is you who saves us from bandits for good reason," Yusuf said, trying to joke. "Next time you are having a nightmare I shall find a long stick to poke you with."

Nicolò closed his eyes, letting out a sob.

Yusuf shushed him kindly, bringing up his other hand to stroke Nicolò's arm while keeping the other still pressed to his cheek.

"I know you did not mean it, dear friend. You have come a long way from the man I first killed. You are not the only one at fault for this."

"I'm sorry," Nicolò said again, eyes still firmly shut.

"And you are forgiven," Yusuf answered.

"I should not be." The words were so quiet Yusuf almost didn't catch them.

He immediately moved to sit up. His heart broke from the way Nicolò's arms went limp and allowed him to leave without protest or reaction. Moving slowly so as not to startle him a second time that night, Yusuf brought both his hands to Nicolò's cheeks, turning him to face him.

"You do not get to decide who I do and do not forgive and for what reasons. That is my decision and mine alone. You cannot force me to not forgive you anymore that I can force you to forgive yourself." He met Nicolò's eyes, determined to get his message across.

"You may wish for me to continue to hate you, but I do not. My hatred does nothing at this point. Who does my hatred for you help, hm? You know you were in the wrong, and you have vowed to change. You have even killed other Franks in the defense of those who are helpless. How does continuing to hate you change what happened in the past? You cannot give back the lives you took, you can only work to not take more like them in the future." Nicolò looked away from him, and Yusuf let him. Perhaps the eye contact had grown to be too much. Nicolò did not move away, in fact he seemed to be almost leaning into Yusuf's touch, so he continued. "I do not hate you. Do not tell me I should hate you, because I will refuse to do so. I have already forgiven you. There is no place to go but forward."

Nicolò glanced back up at him.

“Promise me you will not tell me to hate you.”

"I will not tell you to hate me," he said and Yusuf smiled.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Nicolò's forehead.

"And one day you will stop telling  _ yourself  _ to do so, my friend."

Eventually, Nicolò wet a spare cloth with water from his own supply, and gingerly wiped the blood from Yusuf’s throat, as though concerned his touch would only harm Yusuf again. He let Nicolò move at his own pace, and when he had finished, he took the cloth and returned the favor and gently removed all traces of blood and tears from his friend’s face. When they lay back down, Yusuf moved closer and slowly wrapped an arm around Nicolò, pulling his back flush with his chest. Nicolò froze, but didn’t push him away, eventually relaxing into the embrace.

Yusuf placed them in the same position the next night, and the night after that. It was weeks before Nicolò had another one of his nightmares. But when he jerked awake, he was overwhelmed by the sensation of Yusuf’s arms around him, his chest flush to his back, his nose buried in his neck. He wrapped his hand around Yusuf’s wrist, focusing on the steady heartbeat he could feel now in two places. Yusuf was alive, and they were both safe. With these facts in mind, Nicolò was eventually able to coax himself back to sleep.


End file.
